American Life in Poetryhttp://www.librarypoint.org/taxonomy/term/170/0
enAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 274http://www.librarypoint.org/node/7646
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>Alicia Suskin Ostriker is one of our country’s finest poets. She lives in Princeton, New Jersey. I thought that today you might like to have us offer you a poem full of blessings.</p>
<p><strong>The Blessing of the Old Woman, the Tulip, and the Dog</strong></p>
<p>To be blessed<br />
said the old woman<br />
is to live and work<br />
so hard<br />
God’s love<br />
washes right through you<br />
like milk through a cow</p></div></div></div>Tue, 22 Jun 2010 17:23:19 +0000Visitor7646 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 273http://www.librarypoint.org/node/7645
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>Equipment. I like to paint and draw, and I own enough art supplies to start my own store. And for every hobby there are lots of supplies that seem essential. In this poem we get a whole tackle box full of equipment from Michael Sowder, who lives and fishes in Utah.</p>
<p><strong>Fishing, His Birthday</strong></p></div></div></div>Tue, 22 Jun 2010 17:21:07 +0000Visitor7645 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 272http://www.librarypoint.org/node/7533
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>Whether we like it or not, we live with the awareness that death is always close at hand, and in this poem by Don Thompson, a Californian, a dead blackbird can’t be pushed out of the awareness of the speaker, nor can it escape the ants, who have their own yard work to do.</p>
<p><strong>Yard Work</strong></p>
<p>My leaf blower lifted the blackbird—<br />
wings still spread, weightless,<br />
floating on the loud, electric wind<br />
almost as if it were alive.</p></div></div></div>Mon, 07 Jun 2010 19:59:30 +0000Visitor7533 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 271http://www.librarypoint.org/node/7484
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>Barnyard chickens, which are little more than reptiles with feathers, can be counted on to kill those among them who are malformed or diseased, but we humans, advanced animals that we think we are, are far more likely to just turn away from people who bear the scars of misfortune. Here’s a poem by Ned Balbo, who lives and teaches in Maryland.</p>
<p><strong>Fire Victim</strong></p></div></div></div>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 13:58:18 +0000Visitor7484 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 269http://www.librarypoint.org/node/7446
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>It is enough for me as a reader that a poem take from life a single moment and hold it up for me to look at. There need not be anything sensational or unusual or peculiar about that moment, but somehow, by directing my attention to it, our attention to it, the poet bathes it in the light of the remarkable. Here is a poem like this by Carolyn Miller, who lives in San Francisco.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>The World as It is</strong></p></div></div></div>Tue, 25 May 2010 02:25:12 +0000Visitor7446 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 270http://www.librarypoint.org/node/7445
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>We are sometimes amazed by how well the visually impaired navigate the world, but like the rest of us, they have found a way to do what interests them. Here Jan Mordenski of Michigan describes her mother, absorbed in crocheting.</p>
<p><strong>Crochet</strong></p>
<p>Even after darkness closed her eyes ?<br />
my mother could crochet. ?<br />
Her hands would walk the rows of wool ?<br />
turning, bending, to a woolen music.</p></div></div></div>Mon, 24 May 2010 20:04:43 +0000Visitor7445 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 268http://www.librarypoint.org/node/7359
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>If writers are both skilled and lucky, they may write something that will carry their words into the future, past the hour of their own deaths. I’d guess all writers hope for this, and the following poem by Peter Cooley, who lives in New Orleans and teaches creative writing at Tulane, beautifully expresses his hope, and theirs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>The One Certain Thing</strong></p></div></div></div>Mon, 10 May 2010 21:39:21 +0000Visitor7359 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 267http://www.librarypoint.org/node/7280
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>Here’s a poem by Susan Meyers, of South Carolina, about the most ordinary of activities, washing the dishes, but in this instance remembering this ordinary routine provides an opportunity for speculation about the private pleasures of a lost parent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>Mother, Washing Dishes</strong></p></div></div></div>Tue, 04 May 2010 16:02:00 +0000Visitor7280 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 266http://www.librarypoint.org/node/7220
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>The great American poet William Carlos Williams taught us that if a poem can capture a moment in life, and bathe it in the light of the poet’s close attention, and make it feel fresh and new, that’s enough, that’s adequate, that’s good. Here is a poem like that by Rachel Contreni Flynn, who lives in Illinois.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>The Yellow Bowl</strong></p></div></div></div>Tue, 27 Apr 2010 18:43:51 +0000Visitor7220 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 265http://www.librarypoint.org/node/7106
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>Tell a whiny child that she sounds like a broken record, and she’s likely to say, “What’s a record?” Jeff Daniel Marion, a Tennessee poet, tells us not only what 78 rpm records were, but what they meant to the people who played them, and to those who remember the people who played them.</p>
<p><strong>78 RPM</strong></p></div></div></div>Mon, 19 Apr 2010 18:58:07 +0000Visitor7106 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 264http://www.librarypoint.org/node/6996
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>Wendy Videlock lives in western Colorado, where a person can stop to study what an owl has left behind without being run over by a taxi.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>The Owl</strong></p>
<p>Beneath her nest,<br />
a shrew's head,<br />
a finch's beak<br />
and the bones<br />
of a quail attest</p>
<p>the owl devours<br />
the hour, <br />
and disregards <br />
the rest.</p></div></div></div>Mon, 12 Apr 2010 15:50:00 +0000Visitor6996 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 263http://www.librarypoint.org/node/6981
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>Music lessons, well, maybe 80 out of every 100 of us had them, once, and a few of us went on to play our chosen instruments all our lives. But the rest of us? I still own a set of red John Thompson piano books that haven’t been opened since about 1950. Here Jill Bialosky, who lives in New York City, captures the atmosphere of one of those lessons.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>Music Is Time</strong></p></div></div></div>Wed, 07 Apr 2010 20:20:16 +0000Visitor6981 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 262http://www.librarypoint.org/node/6937
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>When we hear news of a flood, that news is mostly about the living, about the survivors. But at the edges of floods are the dead, too. Here Michael Chitwood, of North Carolina, looks at what’s floating out there on the margins.</p>
<p><br /><strong>The Coffins</strong></p></div></div></div>Mon, 29 Mar 2010 16:04:00 +0000Visitor6937 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 261http://www.librarypoint.org/node/6936
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>All over this country, marriage counselors and therapists are right now speaking to couples about unspoken things. In this poem, Andrea Hollander Budy, an Arkansas poet, shows us one of those couples, suffering from things done and undone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>Betrayal</strong></p></div></div></div>Mon, 29 Mar 2010 16:02:21 +0000Visitor6936 at http://www.librarypoint.orgAmerican Life in Poetry: Column 260http://www.librarypoint.org/node/6776
<div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/176">Ann Haley</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/59">Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/170">American Life in Poetry</a></li></ul></div><div class="terms clearfix"><ul class="taxonomy-list"><li><a href="/taxonomy/term/29">Reading Room Blog</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE</p>
<p>These days are brim full of bad news about our economy—businesses closing, people losing their houses, their jobs. If there’s any comfort in a situation like this, it’s in the fact that there’s a big community of sufferers. Here’s a poem by Dana Bisignani, who lives in Indiana, that describes what it feels like to sit through a bankruptcy hearing.</p>
<p><br /><strong>Bankruptcy Hearing</strong></p></div></div></div>Mon, 15 Mar 2010 15:18:19 +0000Visitor6776 at http://www.librarypoint.org